Compromising Position
by Rosslyn
Summary: Neal was lying on the ground, Peter was on top of him. The situation would be otherwise perfect, had there not been a red dot on Peter’s back. Peter/Neal, oneshot. Fluffy


White Collar: Peter Burke/Neal Caffery

Slashy, no like, no read. Short and (hopefully) sweet. I own nothing but my daydreams.

* * *

**Compromising Position**

Neal was lying on the ground, Peter was on top of him. The situation would be otherwise perfect, had there not been a red dot on Peter's back.

"Damn it, Burke, get off of him." Fowler's voice was cackling in the walkie-talkie. "He's a criminal, you can't protect him this time."

"The hell I can't," grunted Peter. Neal opened his mouth, but was silenced by a sharp glance. "Not a word."

"It's all very well for the bureau to tolerate him when he's just an art thief," said Fowler, growing impatient. "But he's killed someone this time. A murderer. Even you can't tolerate that, Burke!"

"Caffery doesn't kill," said Peter, grinding his teeth, "I've demanded to look over the evidence for forgeries, but you wouldn't authorise – "

"Yeah, that's because YOU ARE OFF THE CASE," Fowler said, "just look at you – do we have a clear shot?"

"Negative," replied the Sniper somewhere close. Fowler mumbled something and switched off the talkie.

Peter sighed. Neal opened his mouth again. "Permission to speak?"

"Yeah, what?" Peter didn't sound particularly agreeable.

"My leg's still within clear shot, I think."

Peter stared at him. "I've got your major arteries covered," he said sarcastically.

"Are you cold?"

"What? No. Neal – "

"Well, I'm a bit too warm and stuffed for my liking." Neal flashed a charming smile. "If I can just get some breathing space?"

"You are not giving yourself up," said Peter sternly. "Fowler knows some really good sniper friends, trust me. And if you do anything as to poke your head out there – they'll take it as an attempt to resist arrest and shoot you on the spot. _Trust me_."

Neal gave a half-hearted mumble that sounded sort of like agreement. The talkie cackled.

"Remove yourself from the suspect, Agent Burke, now."

Peter eyed the talkie. "How many paperwork have you got to file, Fowler, for pointing that gun at my back?"

"None if it's for a justifiable cause." Fowler sounded exasperated. "By justifiable cause, I mean you are shielding a murderer, hence becoming his accomplice. Let go. I promise my men won't shoot until you've turned."

Peter snorted and crouched down a little lower. "My arms are killing me," he mumbled. Then he looked down. "Oh, sorry. Tie."

Neal curled a finger around the tie and pulled him closer. "You can lose your job for this," he said softly in his ear.

Peter looked at him in the eye. "I could lose you," he said matter-of-factly.

Neal lifted an eyebrow.

"Anyway, I think I've probably already lost my job being in this…" Peter glanced around them, "compromising position."

Neal licked his lips and grinned. "Always knew you wanted to be on top."

Peter blinked, twice, and gave a nervous chuckle. "Seriously? Now?"

"Kiss me." Neal said with a half-smile. His eyes were serious. "It'll throw him off."

"Damn it, where is Hughes?" Peter looked up, the siren is forever running in the background, but doesn't seem to be getting closer. "I need someone to override Fowler, now."

"Kiss me."

"Neal, I don't think – "

Neal quickly pulled on his tie again and their lips met. A bullet also missed Peter's neckline by inches.

"Aw, close your eyes when you kiss, Peter," said Neal, cringing. "Ouch. You bit me."

"Yeah! I was too surprised to feel anything other than the bullet!" Peter scrambled frantically for the talkie, whilst making sure he is still shielding the man underneath. "Fowler, are you out of your mind?"

There was a silence on the other end.

"Fowler!"

"Did you just _kiss_?" he made it sound like they've just proposed a threesome with Hughes.

"Also saved by it, it seems," said Peter dryly, "though thanks to you, I didn't even get to enjoy it."

Neal laughed silently underneath him. "Let's try again," he mouthed.

Peter gave a devious smile and dived down. The talkie gave a loud crack, sounding like Fowler just threw it on the ground.

"Oh for god's sakes, just shoot them both!"

"Confirm status, sir?"

"No, you dumbass, of course you can't –"

Carwheels screeched. A lot of shouting and footsteps is quickly closing in. Peter surfaced immediately and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

Neal peered at him. "Peter, you are an exceptionally terrible kisser."

Watching Hughes shouting down Fowler ("He's my agent, my jurisdiction! For the love of god, go back to DC, Agent Fowler!") with immense satisfaction, Peter turned and asked, "Sorry, what?"

Neal pointed at his lips and said again, solemnly, "you are a terrible kisser."

As he turned and walked away, he heard the other man sigh heavily.

= Two hours later =

"Why is it that the bureau have glass walls?" Peter wondered out loud. "You can never get any privacy in here."

Neal eyed him suspiciously. "Why would _you_ need any privacy?"

Peter glanced at the door to make sure it was closed properly, and learnt in. "You insulted me."

"I did?" Neal looked interested, "which one got to you? "

Peter looked momentarily taken aback, "You insult me all the time?"

Neal pondered. "Nah, that would be Mozzie."

"Thanks," said Peter cautiously, "I'll have a word with him next time."

"So?" Neal learnt in this time, "what are you so hang up about, suit man?"

Peter glanced around again and smirked. He got up, went out the door, and jerked his finger.

Neal quickly caught up, sounding stunned. "Did you just give me the finger call?"

"The double finger call." said Peter, keeping up his stride. "Look inconspicuous."

"Oh, you know how average I am," Neal replied breezily. "Where are we going?"

Peter suddenly made a dive left and shouldered a door open, grabbing Neal's wrist in one fluid motion, crashing the door closed again behind him.

"The closet room."

Neal opened his mouth. "That's so cliché."

Peter smiled at him and made no reply. He stepped closer, the gleam in his eye growing predatory.

"Uh-oh," Neal swallowed. "I've seen that kind of look twice."

"Only twice?" Peter drawled.

"Yeah, followed by your handcuffs."

Peter smiled again. To his credit, Neal didn't step back (not that there was any room to), but shifted closer.

"I think I remember that insult now," Neal said softly.

"Do you?" Peter said equally lowly. "Would you like to take it back?"

Neal shrugged. "Well, I'm entitled to my opinion."

Peter lifted an eyebrow. "Then let's change that into a fact."

Neal waited deliberately for him to close in, and – well, you can tell a lot about a man by the way he kissed. Just like Peter. The sort of man that creeps under your skin and stays, like his passion. By the time he's drawn in, you realise it's too late to get it out of your system.

Neal gasped. "You are a biter."

Peter opened one eye and smiled. A warm, soft smile. "Only you, Neal." he said softly ."Only you."

FIN

_More a short drabble than anything else, so excuse the huge plotholes or whatever. Hope it's not too OOC, and hope you liked it!_


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